Worst Case Scenario
by Pandir
Summary: Phoenix is going through a hard time, so he turns to Kristoph for a bit of comfort.    Kristoph/Phoenix, set shortly after Phoenix losing his attorney's badge.


To say that life hadn't been treating Phoenix Wright very kindly would have been an understatement - and of course, to lose his badge, at the top of his career, would have been a strong blow to any man's ego. Kristoph understood that things weren't easy for him. So he took him out for dinner now and then, paying the bill without commenting on it, and, like a good friend, he listened to his drunken lamenting.

"I mean, I'm really not good at being a father. I'm a horrible father. I'm the worst father ever!"  
>The former defense attorney put his glass on the small couch table and buried the face in his hands. He was still wearing his white shirt, out of custom, and the red tie was hanging loosely around his neck.<p>

Kristoph set Wright's glass of wine back on the small table mat, provided to protect the wooden table surface from any stains, and decided it was time to say something comforting.

"One would think that little Miss Trucy is quite lucky to have you as her guardian."

Wright lifted his head, but only to reach for his glass again, almost emptying it with one single gulp, before he continued: "I'm a failure as a father, Kristoph." Apparently, he hadn't listened at all. "And as an attorney", he added, after considering for a moment. "No... No, I'm worse. As a father, I mean." He paused again, making up his mind, before he finally came to the conclusion that he was in no shape to think logically.  
>"Or as an attorney", he sighed. "I'm not even sure. I don't know, Kristoph. I really don't know anymore."<p>

Kristoph smiled at him. "I think you've had enough 'grape juice' for tonight."

It was getting late, and although Kristoph had allowed Wright to sleep in his apartment, so the former attorney wouldn't have to face Trucy like that and thus fail completely as her role model, he wasn't too keen on listening to his self-loathing and self-pitying all night.  
>It was entertaining, in a way, Kristoph didn't deny that – and it was interesting to see how quickly a man could fall from grace. Yet he had more important things to do tomorrow, and he had heard this whole slurred monologue at least ten times up to now, with only slight variations. So despite of Wright's protest, he got up to put the bottle of wine safely out of sight.<p>

When he came back, Wright was leaning back on the couch and staring at the ceiling. Kristoph was about to ask him if he was finally planning to go to sleep now, but the ex-attorney interrupted him.

"Kristoph, why are you doing this?", he asked, calmly. Suddenly, his eyes were fixed on the taller man standing there, and for a moment, he appeared to be astonishingly sober.

Kristoph sighed, and sat down on the couch again. "Because you need a friend right now, Phoenix", he answered, and there was no sign of annoyance in the slight smile on his lips.

Wright nodded, slowly and carefully. "Thanks. You know, I owe you…"  
>His voice trailed off and without real interest, Kristoph wondered if he'd ever finish this sentence, until he suddenly felt Wright's hand on his shoulder and found himself face to face with a slightly swaying, yet determined looking man whose unsteady gaze had something desperate in it.<p>

"Your breath smells of alcohol", Kristoph said, yet he didn't immediately shove him away, which gave Wright the chance to press his lips on Kristoph's mouth.  
>Wright didn't taste any better than he smelled, and Kristoph was not pleased with the overall development of things. He grabbed the man by the collar to kiss him forcefully, allowing himself to bite Wright's lip rather badly, before he slowly pushed him away.<p>

"Phoenix, you are drunk", he said, his voice polite, yet with a stern note. "You should go to bed."

Wright, however, had different ideas. "Don't make this so difficult for me", he said with a rather foolish laugh, before he kissed him again.  
>This time, Kristoph broke the kiss immediately. "As I said before, your breath smells." That did stop Wright from another attempt, and he simply proceeded with kissing Kristoph's neck, while he clumsily tried to open the buttons of the blue jacket.<p>

It was rather pathetic, but Kristoph decided to do him the favour. If Wright was so desperate, it would be nothing but cruel not to take pity on him. He had quickly opened Wright's white shirt, yet when the former attorney finally succeeded with his jacket and tried to get rid of Kristoph's chemise, too, the taller man got hold of his wrists to stop him from pulling at his clothes. Kristoph could not tolerate how carelessly Wright handled clothes when he was drunk and horny.

"I will do that", he told him, and Wright sat back to let him undress. Once Kristoph had folded both his jacket and his chemise and layed them over the backrest of his armchair, he turned back to Wright, who had watched him with interest.

"Am I allowed to touch you again?", he asked, seemingly sincere.

Kristoph managed not to frown at this rather stupid question. "Feel free to continue", he said, not completely able to abolish all traces of sarcasm in his voice.

When Wright ran his hands over his chest, Kristoph pulled the white shirt from his shoulders and granted him another kiss. As Wright climbed on the taller man's lap, he was obviously too drunk to estimate the radius of his movements, knocking his glass over in the process.  
>It was his luck that the glass had been almost empty, yet there was enough wine left to spill over Kristoph's leg.<p>

With a sheepish laugh, Wright put the glass back on the table mat. "Sorry, my fault", he slurred and smiled apologetically.

It took all of Kristoph's famed composure to keep him from strangling that man this very moment. Instead, he managed to return the smile, although he could feel his muscles twitch from the effort. "Nothing a good cleansing cannot fix."

To keep Wright from causing any further chaos, he pulled him from his lap and pressed him down on the couch. No, he really did not feel like prolonging this charade any more than necessary.  
>Wright grinned up at him. "Who'd have thought you'd be so rough, Gavin."<p>

Kristoph's smile was sugar sweet. "My apologies. I was not aware that you were so sensitive."

The man laughed softly, and his fingers found Kristoph's belt in another attempt at undressing his friend, before Kristoph batted them away to do it himself. Wright did not protest and simply resigned to opening his own trousers, which apparently proved to be a task difficult enough to keep him busy for a while. After watching him struggle for a moment, Kristoph decided not to unnecessarily strain his patience and to lend him a hand.  
>While he was finishing what Wright had begun, the ex-attorney searched the pocket of his trousers, pulling out a small tube Kristoph identified as lube. As he did not even feel the urge to ask, he simply took it without a comment.<br>The ex-attorney moaned as Kristoph finally freed his erection, moved readily to meet his touch and let his hands run over the blond's back.

Wright really had to be extraordinarily drunk.

Kristoph was neither in the mood to be gentle, nor was the man beneath him in any condition to continue this joke of a foreplay, so he just continued to stroke Wright's cock with precise, fast movements, while slowly pressing one finger inside him.  
>He might have inquired if Wright was used to be bottom, yet he did not feel like bothering. Be it due to his current state or his sex preferences, Wright simply closed his eyes, breathing heavily and moving a bit uncoordinated against his fingers.<p>

That was, until he suddenly stilled and opened his eyes, his face rather pale.  
>"I think I'm going to throw up", he said, with the calm of someone too drunk to worry about a threatening catastrophe.<p>

Kristoph did not follow his impulse to hit Wright's head against the table and fuck him into oblivion, for as satisfying as that promised to be, he was not willing to risk his couch and carpet. Instead, he pulled his "friend" to his feet and over to the bathroom, leaving it up to him to support himself on the sink while bending over the toilet.  
>He waited outside, kneeding the root of his nose in an attempt to calm himself down.<p>

Wright was working his very last nerve tonight, yet he would not lose his calm. Not because of him of all people.

When Wright emerged from the bathroom, he smiled his sheepish, drunken smile again. "False alarm, I guess."

"Wonderful", Kristoph answered dryly.

As he made no attempt to support him, Wright staggered over to the living room on his own and all but fell on the couch.  
>He yawned. "I suppose I killed the mood", he mumbled. "Maybe I should just…"<p>

He was cut short by Kristoph, who had walked over to the couch, grabbed the smaller man and turned him around within seconds, and before Wright could get out more than a surprised gasp, Kristoph was already pushing inside of him. If he couldn't kill Wright or hit him with something hard until he bled, he would have to content himself with fucking him, and so he did. Wright didn't seem opposed to the overall idea, which was a good thing, because Kristoph couldn't get himself to care.

One hand on Wright's hip, the other buried in his ridiculously messy and spiky black hair to pull him up, he allowed himself to let his anger out on the other man, soon thrusting deep and fast inside him. It felt good, although it did not seem to cause Wright much pain, for he was moaning and squirming beneath him.

"Damn", he heard him breath. "You… really…"

Then, in the middle of whatever he was trying to say, Wright's body went limb and he sank down on the couch, like a puppet whose strings have been cut.  
>Kristoph took a deep breath. His jaw clenched as he held back a stream of curses. It took him several very deep breaths more, until he felt able to release his strong grip on Wright's hair and to get up. He did not bother with dressing the other man and let him lie on the couch just like he was, as he felt not capable of touching Wright without breaking a part of his body.<p>

He took a moment to polish his glasses to get a hold of himself.

Wright was not going to drive him insane. This man was a mess, he was the incarnation of chaos, but Kristoph had known that right from the start. It was important to keep him close. He had to have Wright under his direct control.

When he felt like himself again, Kristoph pulled a blanket over the sleeping body, cleaned up the table and collected his shirt and the jacket from the backrest of the armchair.  
>The stains on his trousers were dark red by now.<br>Kristoph looked at the man that lay unconscious on his couch, and this time, there was no smile on his face.

It was close to a miracle. Just when he thought that it was not humanly possible to hate this man any more than he already did, Wright somehow managed to find a way that made Kristoph despise him even more.

He turned, and was just about to close the door behind him, when the body on the couch shifted slightly and a voice mumbled: "'Night, Gavin."  
>Kristoph's hand clenched on the door handle, as he answered: "Goodnight to you, too, Wright."<p> 


End file.
